


Payday Songfics

by Lucian_Price



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Other, Prison, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28674939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucian_Price/pseuds/Lucian_Price
Summary: A collection of songfics and works inspired by songs. Probably a lot of angst, most are oneshots, a couple have sequels.
Relationships: Dallas/Hoxton | James "Jim" Hoxworth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Payday Songfics

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-Hoxton breakout angst, Dallas buries his sorrows in one night stands, Hox hates prison (shocking)

Hoxton stared at the ceiling of his cell. Everywhere he turned his gaze, it was just gray on gray on gray, punctuated by the vibrant orange of his jumpsuit. He ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair, and then scowled when he realized all that was left was stubble. His hair had been shaved during his stay in the infirmary. Being infamous amongst criminals had its perks of course, he had a few people on the inside who he was able to link up with. Unfortunately he also had many enemies as well. His face, which he would've previously described as roguishly handsome, was now marred by a large burn on his left side.

  


He stretched his legs out on his bed, the bars beneath the mattress (if you could really call it that) pressed into his lower back. He missed his warm bed back at home with Dallas, he missed Dallas' warm touch across his skin, the tender moments they hared together. He would never admit it to anyone else in this hell hole, but he needed Dallas. In those moments when he was alone, in the middle of the night when his mind was rife with nightmares. Every night he burned, every night he dreamed of the crow black dream. His heart thundered loudly in his chest, hammering against his ribs. How would Dallas react to Hoxton's new appearance? Would he shy away from his gnarled face?

  


"Fuckin' hell." He murmured out loud to himself. It had been a few months since he had last seen Dallas, he seemed to visit less and less as time went on. Was he not hopeful that Hox would get out? Was he intent on leaving Hox to rot? He bit his lip harshly, anything to distract him from this line of thought. He knit his brows together, trying to will himself to be literally anywhere else. He imagined their first night together. Slowly he drifted off to sleep, his dreams filled with darkness and fire.

  


* * *

  


Dallas cracked his eyes open, it was 3AM and he couldn't sleep. His heart felt heavy in his chest, what was he doing? He turned his head to the sleeping body next to him. He watched as her chest rose and fell beneath the sheets. Dallas was loyal to the core, and he knew what he was doing was wrong, a violation of trust. It'd been almost a year since Hoxton was arrested, almost a year without change. Dallas tried to argue with Bain for the first few months. Half baked plan after half baked plan, he knew none of them would work, but he just needed to try. He needed to do whatever was in his power to get his lover out.

  


He remembered distinctly what Bain had said to him after Dallas proposed his final plan to get Hoxton back, "Dallas, it won’t mean shit if you get locked in there with him. Maybe it's time to move on." Bain's words had stung Dallas, and it spread like ice through his veins. Unfortunately Bain was right, no plan was worth it if he got caught in the process.

  


"You okay?" The woman next to him whispered. She turned over to face Dallas, the sheets clinging to her naked body. She reached a hand out to caress Dallas' face, her face twisted a little when he recoiled from her touch.

  


"I'm fine." He lied, and mentally chastised himself. _Don’t wake at night to watch her sleep, you know that you will always lose._

  


She hummed softly, and then snuggled up into his chest. He sighed deeply, and tried his best to fall into a deep rest. He was envious of how easily his bed partner could just sleep, the hammering of his heart in her ear. He vowed to himself he would visit Jim in the morning, he needed to make things right.

  


* * *

  


When Dallas awoke the next morning, it was just him in bed. He supposed his bed partner had dashed off in the middle of the night. Maybe she was off put by what Dallas had said to her? He sank deeper into the sheets, he could still smell Jim's cologne deep in the mattress. His pulse thrummed through him, fuck he needed a cigarette. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and glanced at his nightstand. The picture frame of him and Jim together had been sat upright again. He had turned it facedown when he knew he was having company, she must've seen it when she woke up.

  


The picture was the two of them not long after a good heist, Jim was uncharacteristically happy. His eyes twinkled with excitement, stray hairs framing his face. Dallas opened the drawer in the nightstand, fished for a pack of cigarettes, and gently placed the photo into the drawer. He grabbed a lighter off the top of the nightstand, donned a housecoat, and left the room. His apartment seemed bigger now, empty of all it's warmth. He slid open the door to his balcony, and flipped open the carton. An icy feeling settled into the pit of his stomach, the carton was Jim's preferred brand. It was something he had imported from Britain, something about hating the American shite that Dallas smoked.

  


Jim wasn't really a smoker, not until he had met Dallas. Jim smoked on occasion, he was more of a social smoker. Dallas smoked before and after every heist, and when Jim was taken in, he chain smoked until his hands were shaking. He didn't slow down until his brother, new Hoxton, had joined the gang. Their relationship was rather strained, but that still didn't stop Hoxton from reminding him to not smoke so much.

  


He rolled the cigarette between his fingers before lighting it. He inhaled deeply, the smoke travelling down his throat. He wouldn't admit it to Jim, as he would never hear the end of it, but Jim's cigarettes were definitely better than what Dallas settled for. Nicotine rushed through his body, the cigarette between his lips was almost done. He considered lighting a second one, but decided against it. He needed to leave soon to see Jim. He ground out the cigarette in the ashtray he had on the balcony, then turned around to go back inside.

  


He sighed heavily, in through the nose, and out through the mouth. The apartment fell a little less empty, but not by much. He walked back to his room, and flicked through his closet. Dozens of expensive suits and ties greeted him. He carefully selected a cool grey suit, a white button up shirt, and a black tie. He glanced in the mirror, he didn’t look too bad. The suit looked good, his hair was a little messy. He had let it grow in the recent months. The salt and pepper locks rested at the nape of his neck. He looked tired, his facial hair was a little more rugged than usual. He wished he had dealt with it before putting on his suit, but maybe it would help his case.

  
He ducked into the bathroom for a moment, dipped his hands into some product, and worked it through his hair. It slicked back easily, a look he had been doing more often. It looked good, helped to hide some of the new gray hairs, and stayed out of the way when he masked up. His heart twinged in his chest, was this really what he wanted? Truthfully, no. He didn't want to end things, but hope was growing darker with each passing day. He didn't believe that Jim would ever get out, he attended to trial, he knew that the evidence was stacked against Jim.

  


Dallas really didn't remember much of the first few months after Jim's arrest. The time passed in a frenzy of alcohol and sex. Anything he could do to numb the pain. He glanced at himself in the mirror, he looked tired. Fuck he felt exhausted to the core, but things needed to get done. A leader must prevail, he must set an example for those who follow him. It was time to get this done and over with. He spun on his heels and left the room. He adjusted his suit jacket, slipped on his shoes, grabbed his keys, and left his apartment.

  


The elevator ride down was incredibly uneventful, soft music played from overhead. The elevator dinged at the bottom floor, thankfully no one got on and he was left alone. He crossed the lobby and made his way out the doors. The weather was actually quite nice, sun shone from above, and large fluffy white clouds floated overhead. He got into his car, leather seats creaking underneath him. The air smelt like tobacco and whisky, something his brother would've chewed him out for. He turned his key in the ignition, and drove off to Hazleton.

  


* * *

  


Hoxton stared at the wall across from his bed, his knuckles bruised from cracking another one of Matt's ribs. _Serves that wanker right,_ he thought to himself. It was a wonder that the guards didn't stick him isolation this time. Maybe they wanted to see what would happen? Hox thought that the trope of scratching tally marks into the wall was ridiculous. He didn't want a constant reminder of how long he'd bee stuck in Hazleton. No place for a proper English gentleman. He had started counting after the first few months, when he started losing track of time.

  


"Hands on the wall and feet shoulder length apart." The guard at his door barked.

  


Hox rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. Last thing he needed was an extended vacation in isolation, especially if it wasn't because of something exciting. "Like the view?" He smirked as he stood against the wall.

  
The guard said nothing as they unlocked the door, and came in. They fished a set of handcuffs from their pocket, and clasped them around Hoxton's wrists. Then they clasped a set of shackles around his ankles.

  


"You're a kinky one, sunshine." He flashed the guard a smirk, a slight twinkle in his eyes. Anything he could do to be a general nuisance seemed to give him a sense of amusement.

  


"You've got a visitor, asshole." The guard spoke plainly and shoved him towards the doorway.

  


"Maybe it's the bloody queen." He chuckled to himself, and walked forward.

  


Hoxton hadn't had a visitor in ages. He wondered who would be visiting him. He caught a glimpse of the visitation booths, and cold heat swept it's way through his body. Dallas was sitting at one of the booths, staring at the clock. Hoxton was excited to see Dallas, although he would never admit it, but also angry that it had been so long since he had last seen the man. Hox knew about what was going on in the outside world. He knew he had bee n replaced in the Payday gang. He had heard from multiple sources that not only was this replacement using his name, but his fucking mask.

  


The guard sat him down at the booth across from Dallas, and removed his handcuffs. Hox picked up the phone, and Dallas mirrored him on the other side.  


Dallas' eyes widened at Hox's changes. His hair was cropped short, and his face bore a large scar that traveled down the side of his neck. Dallas realized a little too late that he had been physically taken aback by Hoxton's appearance. There was no way that Jim hadn't seen that, he was rather observant. "Hey, Jim." He tried to play cool, like it was no big deal.

  


Hoxton's eyes narrowed, an ugly sneer curling his lips. "'Hey, Jim.' That’s all you have to say to me? After all this time, that's all you have to say to me, Nate."

  


Dallas bit his lip in thought. Things really weren't going the way he had imagined they would be going. He knew Jim had a short fuse, that wasn't a surprise to him, he just never thought he might be on the other side of the fuse. "I'm sorry." He murmured into the phone. A sad smile lifted the corners of his lips. "How've you been?"

  


Hoxton's brows knit together. The action pulled on his scar a little, causing him to wince a little. It still wasn't something he was used to, he wondered if he would ever be used to the sensation. "Things have been…fine." He paused mid sentence to think about what to say. He really didn't want to discuss his burn, and he didn't want to discuss how he got it either. When he got out, he felt it would be a reminder of the hell he went through, but also a testament to his tenacity. "How have things been back home?" He knew he couldn't openly ask about the gang, he didn't want to be responsible for anyone else being where he is.

  


"Jim…" Dallas began, his brows knitting together in a way that Hox knew something was up. He could see the beads of sweat beginning to form on his lover's forehead. "It's over." Dallas looked down a the table, he couldn't bring himself to meet Hoxton's eyes. Dallas could feel Hox's glare burning holes into his body.

  


"The fuck you mean it's over?" Hox snarled, his knuckles going white gripping the phone.

  


"Us." Dallas glanced up, he could see the tears that threatened to spout from Hox's eyes. He knew they wouldn't fall, at least not until he was back in his own cell. "We're over." Dallas said with finality.

  


Hoxton pressed his free hand to the glass barrier. "Listen here, sunshine, it's not over yet. You fuckin owe me, wanker." He snarled, his face tinged red with rage.

  


"I'm sorry." Was the last thing Hoxton heard Dallas say before he flung himself toward the glass.

  


"Visiting time is over." The guard barked as they went to restrain Hoxton. They tried to cuff him, but he wouldn't stand still. He writhed and screamed and cussed. He wouldn't go willingly, so they had to get physical with him.

  


Dallas stood up from his chair, pushed it in, and turned away. He whispered softly, "I love you, Jim." as he walked away to return back to his apartment.


End file.
